


Journey's End

by JennaSinclair



Series: Sharing the Sunlight (STS) [12]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaSinclair/pseuds/JennaSinclair
Summary: As the crew of the Enterprise prepare to enter Earth orbit for the official end to their five year mission, Uhura fears that Kirk and Spock are no longer a couple.





	Journey's End

**Author's Note:**

> "Journey's End" is the twelfth entry in my Sharing the Sunlight series. Each work was written so that a reader could catch up with what is going on if they haven’t read the previous stories, but of course you’ll get a bit more if you read the series in order. I use the name Jenna Sinclair for this K/S series. I use Jenna Hilary Sinclair for all other fanfiction and my professional work.
> 
> Here's the series in chronological order:
> 
> 1\. Sharing the Sunlight (novel)  
> 2\. Reflections on a Lunar Landscape  
> 3\. Pursuing Hyacinths (novella)  
> 4\. Heart’s Delight (novella)  
> 5\. Primal Scream  
> 6\. Parallel Courses  
> 7\. Double Trouble  
> 8\. Son of Sarek (novella)  
> 9\. Promises to Keep (novel)  
> 10\. Jagged Edges  
> 11\. Manna  
> 12\. Journey’s End  
> 13\. One Night  
> 14\. In the Shade (novel)
> 
> All stories and novels in the Sharing the Sunlight series will be posted to Archive of Our Own.

NOTE FROM JENNA: I forgot to mention at the beginning of the Sharing the Sunlight series of novels and stories that I broke with convention regarding Uhura's first name. I can't remember why! But instead of Nyota, I decided her first name is Penda. So here's a story with the point of view of Penda Uhura. 

 

I awakened from a dream I could not remember, but the image of Shadala was so real in my mind it was as if he were standing in my quarters. 

A shiver of longing swept through me. I sat up in the darkness and hugged myself, pushing the fabric of my nightgown down over my breasts. For protection? Because I wanted his touch again? I remember Shadala oh so well. I thought I'd live my life with him, that he was my one true love. 

I breathed in the _Enterprise’s_ recycled air and it all came back to me. In the midst of our love affair, Starfleet had honored me when they gave me the chance to ship out aboard one of their finest starships. My ambition warred with my love and for weeks Shadala and I fought. Starfleet told me I was an excellent communications officer and could go far. I ignored my lover's pleas and his promises of how life could be if only I stayed with him....

One week before I left Starbase Seventeen for my assignment on the _Enterprise_ , when I was just twenty-five years old, Shadala told me between clenched teeth, "Penda, you are a cold bitch," and then he hit me.

Why was I remembering all this now? It was an easy question to answer, since the little house where we had lived together on the 'base was just ten parsecs to our starboard side. The _Enterprise_ hadn't been this close to settled Federation space in years. But my life with Shadala was _over._ I slipped out from under the sheet and walked to the bathroom I share with Jeanie Palmer. She was taking gamma shift tonight, and there was no one to intrude on the memories that insisted on following me. I leaned against the counter and looked at my reflection in the mirror. 

It's odd, the things you remember. I recall exactly the way he said those words. The ghostly image of a tall, handsome man said _Cold... Bitch,_ with a pause between them, so I could hear every letter and understand he meant what he was saying. 

I saw his hand pulling back to strike me and felt his fingers impact my cheek. Shadala was a big man. I'd lost my balance and fallen, and skidded hard across the tile floor in an inelegant sprawl, until the wall stopped me. Through my shock and newly-bloomed disgust, I'd seen regret already forming through his anger. 

He loved me, despite the violence that marked the end of all we'd shared, and I had no other name but love for the emotion he had called from my soul. We had led each other through a passionate dance in the months we'd been together.

But I loved the life I might make on the _Enterprise_ more than I loved him, and that was why I'd told him I was going to leave.

I didn't think that made me a _Cold... Bitch._ Though I dream about it, sometimes. 

I washed my face and hands and returned to the bed. I needed sleep. End of mission duties were accelerating and the schedule was hard. We had just seventeen more days to summarize five incredible years through impersonal Starfleet reports, to bring the ship to inspection readiness, to evaluate personnel and prepare for the ending of this phase of our lives. 

I pulled up the sheet and turned over on my side, my favorite way to sleep. Five years ago, before I ended the phase of my life that was Shadala, he would sleep pressed close behind me, with his arm over my waist, sometimes cupping one of my breasts. That's the way I like to remember him, when we shared moments of peace and contentment. I don't like the image that's burned in my memory instead, his face twisted with rage as he prepared to strike me. 

Sleep was elusive. Eventually I turned on my back and stared at the ceiling. Would violence have ever erupted between us if I hadn't decided to leave him? I didn't know. It was there, his hand hurting me, right alongside the love that I cannot deny I felt for him. The two seemed... contradictory. How could I have loved the kind of man who would strike a woman? 

How could I have turned away from the true-love that I'd thought I had with Shadala so easily? Before the offer of the _Enterprise_ , I'd been so sure....

There was no sense thinking about this. I'd made my choice and there wasn't any going back. If our love had been strong enough, it would have been easy to stay with him. But the love wasn't as strong or as true as I'd thought, and Shadala hitting me had proven that I'd made the right decision. Besides, it was hard to mix a Starfleet career and a relationship. Could anything have kept me from a deep space mission? 

Restlessly I turned to face Starbase Seventeen, hundreds of light years away, where I had lived with Shadala, my one true love who hadn't been a love that lasted. 

************************

Two days later I was having lunch with Hikaru and Irina in rec room six, enjoying their company and their laughter and adding to a treasure trove of memories, when engineering lieutenant Colleen O'Shaughnessey joined us, uninvited. 

She plunked down her tray and announced, with that dramatic flair I find so annoying, "It's all over!"

"You mean we're in Earth orbit already? I'm the chief helmsman, why didn't they tell me?" Hikaru said, wide-eyed. I'm going to miss his stupid sense of humor. 

"Not the mission, silly."

"Then what? The engine rebalancing you're working on?" That was Irina, ever practical. The woman was born to be a scientist. 

Colleen leaned forward and whispered, "The affair between the captain and Mister Spock. They've finally come to their senses!" Then she leaned back and surveyed us, dripping self-satisfied triumph. 

I am the chief communications officer of this ship, self-appointed social director and Mother Confessor to all, and what I don't know isn't worth knowing. "I doubt it," I said, putting as much disinterested scorn in my voice as I could, and I picked up my juice and drank.

"It's true," she insisted. "Haven't you noticed that they're never together anymore? Not in the rec rooms, not in the gym."

"Try the bridge," Irina said dryly. 

"I have it on very good authority that they haven't..., you know, slept together in a week."

"What did you do," Hikaru put his elbows on the table and spoke as if he were dealing with a demented adolescent, "steal a tricorder and take readings every night? Come on, even you wouldn't do that." 

The red-headed vixen looked angry, and I had to fold my lips over a smile. Colleen and I have a long history. Back before she became the darling of engineering, she'd applied for a posting to communications, and I turned her down in favor of Jeanie Palmer. Colleen isn't a person who hides any of her emotions, and she was very disappointed. 

A year later she proved it when she seduced the man I had just begun to love. Armand was kind, fun to be with, sensitive to my feelings, and there was a spark of genuine attraction between us I hadn't felt in the three years since Shadala. I had allowed myself to think that the long string of shallow relationships after my love-that-wasn't had ended, and that here perhaps there was someone with whom I could truly trust my bruised heart.

When he left me for a triumphant Colleen.... It wasn't just that my pride was hurt. A man can't be stolen like an object; he has to want to go. Armand wanted to leave me. I'd misjudged him, and given him my heart when he did not deserve it. Where was my judgment?

Colleen had made me question whether casual lovers and friends were all I could ever achieve. Would there ever be anyone out there for me, or was I just an idealistic dreamer?

"Look, you can believe me or not, but I know what I'm talking about. The captain and Mister Spock aren't together anymore, and that's good. I don't want this ship to be disgraced when we're finally home and everybody discovers they're lovers." She spit the word out, like a snake ejecting venom. I guess she expected us to recoil. "Earth's a lot more conservative than when we left five years ago, or haven't you been paying attention to the political news?"

"You mean the Eternists," I sniffed. I'm up on every kind of news there is. I'm a com officer, aren't I? 

She leaned forward with the fervor of the true believer. "They make sense. We need to get back to the old values; we'll be stronger if we do."

She must not have realized what she was saying. The truly orthodox Eternists would have women restricted to the planet.

Sulu put his fork down and asked gently, "Is that what you really want? A human-dominated Federation? Or to have Earth and her colonies pull out of the Federation altogether? You know where that would leave you; without a job back on Earth, probably with two babies crying in the creche." 

For once Colleen looked uncertain. She's usually so sure of her opinions and enthusiasms that she doesn't leave room for doubts. "Well, at least I wouldn't be afraid any children I might have would be growing up in a permissive, perverted world." 

Hikaru rolled his eyes, I took another sip of my soup. Irina's not quite as calm as we can be, though. The glass of water she'd been drinking hit the table with a crack. "Don't call Mister Spock perverted!" Everybody knows Irina has a soft spot in her heart for Spock. 

"Why not, Miss Climb the Ranks? Face it, your mentor's a daisy. But at least he and the captain have realized Starfleet doesn't want their sort on Earth. That affair is over."

I yawned, loudly, and patted my hand over my mouth in the rudest way I could manage. What the heck. I was definitely tired of this woman's prejudices. "So you say."

I'll say one thing for Colleen, she is persistent. "I'm glad you're not surprised, Penda, because you shouldn't be. Everybody's breaking up these days, it's natural because it's end of mission."

"Not everybody," Irina said, looking down her nose like a Grand Dame addressing a servant. 

"Oh, pardon me, I make an exception for True Love like what you and Brian have. Besides, you're married. The captain and Mister Spock aren't committed to one another, you know. They're not even.... what do you call that Vulcan thing? Bounded? Bound to one another?"

The woman was stupid, too. Bonded. Mister Spock and Captain Kirk weren't bonded because Spock had lost all his Vulcan psychic powers almost a year ago, and he couldn't make the appropriate mental connection. At least, I think that must be the reason. I'm not exactly their confidante in these matters.

Of course, they could have married in the human style. I don't know why they haven't. 

Sulu looked up from stuffing his face with bamboo shoots and bok choy. "This is boring," he said flatly. "Let's talk about something else."

"I'm not the one who's preoccupied with the captain and Mister Spock," Colleen said smugly, smiling sweetly at Irina and me. 

That little comment hit home. Maybe I'd been a little intense in defending Jim and Spock's relationship to the doubters among the crew. Before circumstances forced their private lives to become public knowledge, I'd had no interest in same-sex relationships and the difficulties people had simply in loving one another. But now.... Well, I guess I've become an apologist for the cause. Love is love, in whatever guise it takes. Love is good. 

And what's between Jim and Spock.... it's special. They're not ordinary lovers, like star-crossed Penda and Shadala, or Colleen and her bedmates, or Pavel and his passion-of-the-week. They are true lovers, like Irina and Brian, committed and passionate. You could see it in their eyes. Maybe other people couldn't, but I could. 

Or maybe other people could, and simply thought it was wrong. Well, I didn't. 

Which was exactly the attitude Colleen was mocking. So I yawned again and said, "Has anyone heard about the stopover on Riddle's Planet? We've got to unload all that equipment in the hold for the Potemkin to pick up. It'll take a couple of days. There's a chance for some last minute shore leave." 

I hated to sacrifice that tidbit of news, but it certainly got the conversation going again in a different direction. Nothing is as important to a deep space crew as shore leave. 

Finally Hikaru emerged from fulfilling his caloric requirements and took Colleen off with him to "help her return some tapes" to the ship's library. He winked at me over his shoulder as they left. 

Which left just Irina and me. She sat slumped in her chair, stirring her coffee in slow circles. That's not like Irina. She said, "Colleen's just trying to stir up trouble. She was wishful-thinking." 

"It's the only kind of thinking she's capable of," I said, and sniffed. 

Irina tilted her head and contemplated her slowly moving hand. "Although, I have noticed Mister Spock seems a bit... quiet lately. More than usual, I mean. Even with the captain."

"And the captain has been snappy sometimes. That's just end of mission stress," I assured her. "They're both under a lot of pressure. It doesn't mean a thing."

Irina abandoned the spoon so it stood exposed in her coffee cup. "It hasn't been an easy few weeks."

I nodded. Besides all my professional obligations, I was saying good-bye to five years of my life, and thinking too much of another good-bye I'd made. Was my time on the _Enterprise_ worth leaving Shadala for? Yes, without a doubt. Did I have regrets? I think everybody does; as the universe is not perfect, so regrets are eternal. 

"Relationships are so much easier on the ship," Irina sighed. "I'll be meeting Brian's family on Earth. And he'll have to meet my mother and my father. They're not too happy about me marrying some stranger out in the middle of the stars." 

"They'll love him," I assured her.

"I'm not so sure. He's not Catholic, you know. It doesn't matter to me, but it does to my parents. It's not going to be an easy meeting."

"It will go fine. Brian's a good man. Your parents will get to know him, and they'll grow to love him like you have. He's wonderful."

"Most of the time. Not lately. We can't seem to agree on our next posting."

"You're fighting?" Irina and Brian were the only couple on the ship who'd made the ultimate formal commitment and married. Their contract was one of those rare unlimited ones without a specific duration. They were the last people I thought would have problems with end of mission.

"Not really." She sketched a ghost of a smile. "Well, yes. But it's hard to fight with someone who stays so calm, when I just want to throw things. I want to try for that project on New Mars, and he wants to ship out for a few more years. It makes sense. He needs to be on a ship to advance in engineering. But I have my career to think of, too."

I had an image of the phlegmatic Brian dodging a starfleet-issue boot, not a good way to discuss a dependency posting. "You'll both have to compromise," I said as gently as I could. I wasn't telling her anything she didn't know already. 

"Maybe," she sighed. "But how do you do it? You're either in one place or the other. It looks like one of us will have to give in, or we'll have to give up the dependency posting and live apart. It's a lot simpler on the ship. End of mission complicates everything." 

I took her depression with me back to the bridge, where it fit in perfectly with the subdued atmosphere there. It was very quiet as familiar stars crawled by on the viewscreen; we were traveling at a stately warp two through one of the most settled parts of the Federation. Heads were down as everyone was intent on a system check, or a computer update, or some other EOM necessity. My footsteps sounded loud in the silence as I walked the short distance from the turbo to my station.

The captain was in the center seat for a change -- all morning he'd been gone inspecting the lower decks -- with his legs crossed and a comp slate in his lap. There are very few men who can cross their legs as flamboyantly as the captain does, and still maintain an air of masculinity, and yet the captain can, and he's in love with another man.

I opened a line for an incoming message, tapped the transponder in my ear and switched my attention to Mister Spock. He was standing over the science station, his fingers moving upon the console. There were lines in his face that hadn't been there a few months before, etched by the Klingons and exploding stellar anomalies and end of mission demands. I looked from him to the captain and back.

I couldn't help but think of what O'Shaughnessey had said. When was the last time I'd witnessed Jim and Spock talking together about anything but their responsibilities? When was the last time I'd seen that special look come into their eyes, the special glow that's one of the treasured memories I'll take with me when we disembark? The captain teasing his Vulcan, and Spock responding in kind.

It had been weeks since the bridge had been relaxed enough for that kind of behavior. The incredible, Jim Kirk-only smile that had lightened so many duty hours, and had so often in the last year been directed to his first officer, was just a memory. My commanding officers hadn't been spending any time together on the bridge. Or in a rec room, or walking down the hall engrossed in one of their familiar intense conversations, or joining the crew in the gym.... 

Well, I hadn't been keeping up with my exercise program either, I defiantly told my console, and I was more likely to be pouring over another form for Starfleet than in a rec room at night. Nobody was keeping to a regular schedule with all the EOM demands, and the captain and first officer had more responsibilities than the rest of us combined. 

From the corner of my eye I looked again at Spock, then over my shoulder at the captain, each working hard to make the _Enterprise_ the best ship to ever achieve orbit over Earth. What was I thinking? This wasn't tension between them, this was simply the pursuit of excellence. Colleen O'Shaughnessey, I thought, go stick your head in a Jeffries tube.

Com traffic was especially busy. The twelfth message I logged was from Starfleet, Division of Personnel, Assignment Section. As I encoded the routing program and engaged the automatic sort to two hundred and thirteen personal terminals, I knew the ship was going to buzz tonight. 

But Starfleet was only reassigning the beings who'd transferred on board mid-mission. Those of us who were senior officers, or who'd put in the full five years or close to it were going to get a nice long vacation after a nice long debriefing. After the ceremonies of welcome and maybe a press conference or two, I expected to have my brain picked for weeks, probably months. The captain and first officer and Scotty would probably be talking to the "experts" even longer. And then....

And then what? My fingers hovered over a switch for a few seconds while I contemplated the captain and first officer's future, long enough for a delay code to sound in my ear to encourage me to get on with the job. I jabbed at the button while wondering. If Irina had thought she were eligible for the prestigious New Mars project, how many more projects of even greater status would Mister Spock be able to choose among? 

And what did Starfleet have in mind for the still-youngest-starship-captain-in-the-fleet, Jim Kirk? Rumors among the crew ran the gamut from a slap on the hand for frequent violations of the Prime Directive to a promotion to admiral. It was hard to imagine my energetic, fearless captain anywhere but on the bridge of a starship, or Spock anywhere but at his side. But it was possible. It was even... likely. Personal relationships and Starfleet don't mix. I could hear my own voice saying that to an angry Shadala five years ago. I could hear Irina saying "give up the dependency posting" in a defeated tone. 

Shadala had no place on the bridge, neither did Irina and her troubles, and I banished them both. Before I sent the "distribute" signal for the reassignment list, I checked for transmission garbage, as every com officer is taught to do for any official message not labeled for captain's eyes only. No sense in forwarding nonsense if I could pick it up before it caused confusion. That's one reason why com officers must be the soul of discretion. We know so much.

I don't really have an excuse; O'Shaughnessey's reassignment "happened" to catch my eye. She was being sent to the advanced engineering school on Betelguese III. I guess Starfleet didn't think she was a total idiot. 

Another message came through, and then my attention was captured by some high-priority transmissions from sickbay on our four patients being held in stasis. The bridge was still very quiet. Hikaru called up a replacement so he could work on paperwork in the deck two briefing room; as he entered the turbo he called out his destination to me in a cheerful voice that pierced the silence. 

Then Mister Spock straightened and came to my station. 

He handed me a personal com disk. "Please send this to New Mars on a non-priority basis; the precise destination is already encoded. Charge it to my personal account." He looked over towards the center seat and raised his voice. "Captain, I will be in the botany lab for the remainder of the day," he said, and walked towards the turbolift. 

The captain kept his head down and just nodded. That was... odd, especially with Spock involved. The captain always looked at his first officer. At the beginning of the mission he looked as if Spock were an irresistible challenge, then later as if his eyes were hungry and he couldn't see enough. 

And Spock rarely spoke to the captain from the distance of the upper level. Although Vulcans might be known for maintaining a clearly defined personal space, I was accustomed to seeing the _Enterprise’s_ Vulcan consistently violating that space with his captain. 

I blinked and looked down at the disk in my hand. This was just a recommendation for Irina, right?

Of course it was. I was letting Colleen spook me. Next I'd be seeing the ghosts of dead tribbles. I tapped Mister Spock's tape into the queue. 

The sixteenth incoming message was from Starfleet, Division of Personnel, Housing Section. It provided assignments for the crewmembers who would undergo more than cursory debriefing. I checked my own assignment right away, and was grateful to see that I would be quartered in the new Bachelor Officers' Quarters on the south side of the sprawling San Francisco base. I wouldn't have wanted to spend much time in the decrepit north complex, which has needed renovating for years. The BOQ South accommodations are actually larger than my cabin on the _Enterprise_. 

Another garbage check. There was a problem this time with the last third of the message, so I ran it through my favorite clearance program. The first page of complingua flickered before my eyes just long enough for me to translate. Kirk, Captain James was assigned for four months to the VIP apartments reserved by Starfleet for visiting diplomats and planetary dignitaries. My lips pursed in a soundless whistle. A slap on the wrist was definitely not in my captain's future, not with those accommodations. 

The second flickering line assigned Spock, Commander, to the senior officer's apartment in BOQ South, in the same complex where I would be with Scotty and Hikaru and many others. It was a good thirty kilometers from where the captain would be staying. 

I sat back in my chair and swiveled enough to look at my commanding officer. His head was still bent over whatever report he was working on. Had he and Spock thought any of this through? When their relationship became common knowledge on the ship, there had certainly been enough sniggers on board about the bathroom that connected their quarters, but at least it allowed the two of them to be discreet about their visits to one another. Such discretion wasn't going to be possible when they were living so far apart for months; discretion might be next to impossible in the full glare of the publicity that would surround our triumphant return home. And if they couldn't be discreet, why not be open? 

The program cleared and beeped. I engaged the distribute signal, then an addendum popped up for further routing. Irina Hunyady and Brian Dawson were assigned to the Paired Officers' Complex, West B. They'd filed their request for quarters together and it had been honored. Obviously, the captain and first officer hadn't made the same request. Deliberately? If they had, how would that have meshed with Starfleet's decision to treat the captain like a hero? How could a relationship that had been as close as Jim's and Spock's on the ship survive the distance imposed upon it on Earth? 

I cleared the board for the seventeenth message in the last hour, and told myself that it was none of my business. None of my intrusive speculations meant anything. Jim Kirk and Mister Spock were perfectly capable of handling their own affairs without interference from me. Colleen O'Shaughnessey had _not_ brought anything to my attention; I know these men in a way she never could, work with them every day. They are my friends, my dear friends, and I care about them deeply. If there were anything to see I would have seen it long before now, and I saw nothing but professional military officers doing their jobs superlatively well. 

And that was that. I said I wasn't going to let Colleen's pettiness disrupt my serenity, and I didn't. I focused on the business at hand. If a cadet doesn't learn how to do that, under all sorts of adverse conditions including enemy attack, then she's a liability to her ship in deep space. Thirty-seven messages inundated my station before shift change, a record, and I was worn out by the time Tan Resl't came to relieve me. 

***************************

The next night I left the mess hall with the announced intention of "finishing up my paperwork." But I didn't work on it for even an hour before I stopped. I was restless, and the words just weren't coming, so I ordered the computer off and stood. But I didn't know exactly what to do. I'd been concentrating so long on Starfleet's demands, I think I'd forgotten what it was to relax. 

I looked about my cabin. As a more senior officer even during the early days, I'd always had quarters to myself. I had turned the impersonal grey walls and bare floor to my haven away from work and danger and the constant presence of four hundred people intruding on my personal space. Soon I would take down the tapestry over my bed, remove the standing sculpture I'd picked up on Barrida II, gather up all the personal belongings that had traveled with me through the stars. 

I walked to the closet and aimlessly ran my fingers across the sleeves of my wardrobe. Much of this would be out-dated on cosmopolitan Earth. A shopping trip once we were settled in San Francisco was definitely in order. Would this split-skirted dress, for instance, still be appropriate for a night out on the town? I had worn it on Argelius, once the problems with Mister Scott had been solved. Dear Scotty. As if anyone could ever think he were capable of murder. I smiled. Only if someone assaulted his beloved engines. 

And would this shimmering skirt be considered passé? There'd been a glorious leave on Fal-T 3 when a group of us had rented a house in the middle of a city known for its cultural attractions as well as its night life. The skirt had been perfect when Hikaru and I attended a glittering gallery opening. He'd worn a white silk shirt and black blousoned trousers, to complement my black and silver, and we'd had a laughing, elegant time. The perfect couple, we'd teased each other. Hikaru steers his way through social situations as easily as he pilots the _Enterprise_ , and he is a true friend. An extraordinary person, really. He's always there with a quick smile, a supporting hand when needed. He'd liked my outfit on Fal-T, but now that we were almost on Earth, would I ever have the chance to wear it again? 

My hand lingered on a caftan, my favorite for relaxing after shift. I'd been wearing this when I saw Jim trapped between dimensions in Tholian space. If the interphase hadn't altered.... I shivered and dropped the caftan's sleeve. More than once I'd given Jim up for dead, but that time had been the worst, for we truly had thought he was gone. There'd been such an ache in my heart....

I closed my eyes and gently shut the closet door, and as the snap caught, loud in the silence, I heard many other doors closing. That's what life was all about, wasn't it? Openings and closings, choices made, some regretted. The ending of the five year mission was no different. It was just another chapter in my life that was closing. Another chapter would open with our arrival on Earth. 

I wandered over to the bed, and after contemplating its standard issue orange bedspread for a moment I pulled the bedding down and lay upon the cool sheets. I was so tired. My eyes drifted shut and images began to take shape in my mind. 

Our silver-winged protector, lady _Enterprise_ , captured in the grid of drydock. Hikaru, feet planted solidly on the ground, looking up to Earth's blue sky and laughing, saying, "I'll be back!" Shadala, eyes a murderous grey, advancing towards me as I lay naked on the grass, falling upon me, crushing my breasts, kissing me with hot breath until I wrenched my head from him and saw not four meters away another naked couple, standing facing one another. They were Jim and Spock with huge, erect penises, and their arms were outstretched as if they were reaching for each other. But they each took a step backwards, and then another and another, all the time saying, "Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye...." 

I jerked from the abyss of sleep with the sound of the intercom, was up on my feet and staggering towards the desk a moment later. I had never.... _never_ thought of them like that. Damn Colleen!

"Yes?" Many years of practice cleared the cobwebs of sleep from my voice. 

It was Hikaru. He'd been struck by a wave of nostalgia, he claimed, and wanted to gather the entire alpha shift bridge crew in rec room six, just for some conversation and a few drinks. I looked down at the com, disconcerted. Arranging impromptu get-togethers was something I usually did. 

"Come on, Penda. Buddha never wanted us to be so serious."

"What?" 

"It won't be a party if you're not there to sing."

I had to smile. He sounded so normal, and his voice was driving away the wisps of that crazy dream. "So now it's a party. A minute ago you just wanted to get together and talk."

"About whatever you want. You need to lighten up. I'm stopping by your quarters in ten minutes and I won't take no for an answer."

Once I got there I was glad Hikaru had insisted. Audrey Dillow was there, and Pavel, of course, Tan Resl't and Kyle who sometimes fills in for Hikaru.... Lots of people who were officially or unofficially part of the alpha shift bridge crew, the captain's hand-picked, most trusted crew members. Scotty stopped by for just half an hour, then had to leave. 

Of course, the captain wasn't there, and Mister Spock wasn't either. 

After a while someone asked me to sing and so I did. "Something happy," Audrey said, so though I wasn't feeling especially cheerful I sang a few cheerful songs. Everyone else was in a good mood, as if they couldn't wait to make Earth orbit and shake the dust of the five year mission from their Starfleet boots. I began to catch some of their exuberance. This was much better than hugging my memories to myself in the stillness of my room. 

Ensign Shinswani, who's usually as quiet as a mouse, started singing _Banned From Argo,_ our unofficial ship's song, and everyone joined in. We added another verse, and I had a vision of the _Enterprise_ sailing the heavens forever in song, always winging towards a perfect raucous shore leave.

During a time when everyone wasn't singing or laughing aloud, Spock stepped into the room and headed for the drinks dispenser. I'm sure he didn't know what was going on, that he'd stumbled upon a strange form of celebratory mourning, like an Irish wake. He probably wanted a cup of tea, or anything hot, the way he usually does when he's immersed in a big project. He was working in the botany lab again.

We stopped him before he could touch a button. "Play for us," Irina asked, and there were many voices echoing hers. "Play for us and Penda will sing."

There was a small silence while he looked at us, surveying the room from right to left, with that little smile that lights up his eyes. Years ago, before I learned that to understand Mister Spock you had to look in his eyes, I'm sure I would have thought he was being insufferably haughty.

"I will play," he said, bowing his head the way he does sometimes when he's embarrassed. "But I cannot stay long. There is much to be done."

So he went to get his lyre. Even after all this time serving with him, there wasn't one of us who was willing to volunteer to go get it for him. Invade Mister Spock's quarters? Not even Irina would do that. 

He played and I sang again. After two songs, a woman's voice called out, "Play _All That's Gone."_ It's a sad song about lost love that had been popular when we left Earth. I looked up and saw Colleen standing in the doorway with her arms folded, smirking. 

I drew breath to protest. Spock preferred not to play any of the blatantly emotional songs of the day, and I had always respected that. It was an unspoken pact between us. _All That's Gone_ wasn't the type of music that he and I performed together, ever. 

But before I could find words, he nodded in his self-possessed way and began to strum the introductory verse. He's really quite a musician. When I finally did open my mouth it was to sing. 

_All That's Gone_ isn't great art, but it has a compelling melody and more than one being in the audience seemed to be affected. The room went very quiet. It wasn't difficult to guess why. Our lives on the _Enterprise_ would soon be gone, just like the love in the song.

Hikaru looked at me so strangely, his eyes glittering, the way he sometimes looks when all our lives are in his helmsman's skilled hands. Brian put an arm around Irina's shoulders. Tan's antenna twitched. Pavel put his drink on a table, leaned against a wall and folded his arms. 

Suddenly I couldn't face them anymore. We had been companions for so long. They were like brothers to me, like sisters, living and loving and singing together under the same winged protectress....

I drew breath and kept singing, but there were tears in my eyes. This could very well be my last concert in a rec room, and I didn't want to say good-bye. 

I had to turn somewhere else to regain my composure. I ducked my head to block the sight of my friends and looked down at Mister Spock's fingers stroking the strings of his lyre. He has such beautiful, long fingers, and he caressed the strings with an exquisite touch that he'd lacked years ago. He stroked the strings now like a lover caresses his beloved, and his musical expression has improved because of it. Dear Spock. How much he's grown.

He looked up at me from under his eyelashes, as he sometimes does when we perform together. Usually, when he does that, we're sharing a private joke, and his eyes are twinkling. But not tonight. 

Perhaps even our Vulcan had been affected by the music. Perhaps he too was gathering sad memories of the past five years. Perhaps.... he was touched by other things of which I could only guess. 

Spock's eyes seemed very somber. Sad.

I didn't want to see him look so sad. I love Spock. I want him to be happy. I will miss him, and our concerts together. 

I lifted my head and looked out at my shipmates, and I wondered if Hikaru knew and Scotty knew and if Pavel knew how much I will miss them. If Jim knew how much I will miss him. I love them all so much. 

It was ridiculous. I sniffed. Spock heard me and placed a lovely little melodic interlude between lines just so I could regain my composure. I took two deep breaths while he played, picked up the melody and finished the song without another problem. 

Before the last note was really completed, Spock cut off the resonance and stood. "I must go now," he said, and a moment later he was out the door. 

I looked for Colleen, but she was gone too.

**********************

The next night Hikaru was sitting alone catching a quick bite in rec room six when I stopped by for a salad and baked potato. I sat with him and we talked about nothing in particular. After a while he commented that I seemed subdued, and asked if there were anything wrong. 

Hikaru is such a dear. I think of all the people whom I will miss when this voyage is over, I will miss him the most. I wonder what the future holds for him.

"No," I said, "nothing's wrong. Except that all of this," I gestured vaguely at the plain grey walls that surrounded us, "will be over soon." 

So Hikaru set himself the task of diverting my mind and he succeeded. The tightness in my neck that I said was from a hard day on the bridge slowly eased. He told me about a silly message his brother had sent about meeting him when the stairs were let down from the sky and we laughed together over it. I told him about hoping to get away from San Francisco to spend some time with my sisters after the first tumult of our return has died down. Hikaru is a true friend. 

Dinner ended too soon, but we both had work to do. I sat down at my desk and tackled the main communications report. I'd finished the first draft more than a month ago, and Mister Spock had reviewed it and made suggestions, which I'd implemented, then the captain had reviewed that version and made suggestions, which I'd implemented.... This was the fourth and final draft, and I surprised myself by actually crossing the last t and dotting the final i by twenty-two hundred hours. It was perfect, and besides there wasn't much time for more changes. I was just reaching to forward it to the captain's terminal when my intercom came alive. 

"Uhura here."

"Lieutenant, this is the captain. I'd like to talk with you in my office."

"I'll be right there, sir." 

The captain was sitting at his desk when I arrived, surrounded by printouts neatly stacked and tapes in straight rows, his head bent and his hand steadily moving as he wrote. He held up a hand to indicate I should wait while he finished, so I sat in one of the four chairs grouped around his desk. The computer screen was on and had that bluish glow that meant it had been activated for a long time. It reflected off his face, making him look very pale, and as if his skin were pulled tight over his cheekbones. He was working too hard. 

I looked away. That's not the image of the captain that I'll take from the ship with me. In the memory that I'll always have he's on the bridge. His head is up, there's a defiant light in his eyes as he faces danger. Those broad shoulders of his are straight, determined, and only a Gorn could knock him off his firmly planted feet. It's Jim Kirk against the galaxy, glorying in the spotlight and the demands fate makes of him.

It's idealistic, but it's also true. To me Jim Kirk is a tiger, wild and beautiful, and when he paces on the bridge he's stalking his prey in a most primitive dance, graceful and deadly. If I were his enemy, I would be afraid of his strength and cunning, but since I am a fellow officer and friend, I admire him instead. 

I didn't like seeing him bent over a compslate, bent over his desk, captured by the EOM paperwork like a tiger caged in a zoo. Already I missed his verve, his impatient gesturing as he solves a problem, I missed his smile. So I sent my gaze roaming through his office instead. 

I looked for the beautiful sculpture that for months had been on the low storage credenza behind his desk. It's a delicate crystalline structure of some sort of flower, encased in a forcefield. As com officer, I had helped Spock order it from the Arcturus artists' colony, and later logged its arrival. When I saw it in the captain's cabin, proudly displayed, I'd smiled to think it had been a gift between lovers. It was the sort of gift I wish someone had given me.

The sculpture wasn't behind the captain now, and I looked elsewhere for it, around the office, then past the grillwork into the bedroom. The double bed was neatly made, the nightstand bare. When I'd visited these quarters a few weeks ago, there'd been two books on the nightstand, at angles to one another, placed there casually. No books tonight, and no crystal flowers.

Hastily I pulled my eyes from where they had no business looking. I was doing it again. So the captain was getting a head start in storing his private possessions. It meant nothing. 

"Lieutenant?" He sounded annoyed that my attention had been so blatantly wandering. I jumped guiltily. 

"Yes, sir?"

"How's your paperwork coming along?" he asked. "Any problems?"

I shook my head. "No, sir. In fact I finished the last draft of the departmental report right before you called."

"Good job. You've always run a tight department, Penda."

I warmed to the praise. Captain Kirk is never effusive, but he acknowledges effort, and inspires his people to work even harder. I knew I was an excellent department head, but it was still nice to be recognized.

"I'm rewarding your efficiency with more work. There's another project I want you to take on. Not for Starfleet this time, but for us." He punched a code on the comp keyboard, but I couldn't see what he called up. 

He contemplated the screen for a long moment, then asked in a suddenly soft voice, "Do you know how many people have died while I've been captain of the _Enterprise_?"

I'd stopped counting that first year, and deliberately tried to forget after Ensign Gtunga died in my arms. "No, sir, I don't." My voice was as church-quiet as his.

"I do. Fifty-seven." 

That many? Faces flashed before my mind -- Gloria of the sweet smile, Roberto who wouldn't talk to anyone, Tarn who had wanted to be a scientist -- but not fifty-seven faces. Had some of the people who died for my safety receded into the true oblivion of the not-remembered? "I didn't realize there were so many."

He nodded gravely. "There are. In a little while they'll be just names on a list, but until we make Earth orbit they're still members of my crew. I don't want them simply forgotten."

He shifted forward in one of those decisive moves of his. "I want a memorial ceremony for them in a few days. A remembrance. Do you think you could find the time to organize that?"

I hadn't thought of something like this, and yet my overworked captain had. Is it any wonder most of us would follow him into the heart of a sun? And how appropriate that he had come to the woman who was collecting memories for this task. 

"Of course I can," I said as warmly as I could. "In the gym?" 

He nodded. "Set it up so there can be short personal testimonies, one for each of the deceased."

"I could have people sign up for that beforehand."

"I'll leave the details to you. I want to officiate, and involve anyone else you think is appropriate. And...." The intercom whistled and he frowned before he punched the button. I sat back in my chair and couldn't help but listen.

"Kirk here."

"Spock here, Captain. The botany and biology labs will be ready for your inspection at oh nine hundred tomorrow morning.."

The captain called up another screen and examined it. "That means you'll be working there through the night again, right?"

"Affirmative," Spock said in that crisp, no-nonsense way of his. 

"Good. That will put us ahead of schedule. Could you do the same thing with biochem and geology tomorrow night?"

"That is my intention. With diligent application from all personnel, those labs should be available for inspection within thirty-six hours."

"And then you can get to work on chem and astrophysics. Commander Tu reported just thirty minutes ago and they're still a mess. You'll need to do something to bring them up to speed." Another typed-in command and the captain looked at a different screen. "That brings us to the final engine balancing. Mister Scott wants you in engineering then. It should be right before our final stopover at Riddle's."

"I cannot guarantee that my other duties will allow me to be available."

"Make sure you are," the captain said sharply, "that's important. We can skimp on the labs, but I want those engines at optimum when we make Earth."

"Yes, sir," my captain's first officer and lover said. I sat, speechless at the schedule they casually assumed for Mister Spock. What if he hadn't been Vulcan? No human could go for days on end without sleep, as he apparently intended to do. And the captain was prepared to let him, too. 

And why press so hard? There was a lot of work to do, but I knew from the schedules I helped compile every day that there was still time to do it all before we made Earth, without Spock working all night, every night. 

The captain signed off with no ceremony and looked at me for a moment as if he had no recollection of why I was there. He looked as tired as I imagined Mister Spock must feel.

"That sounds like a difficult schedule for Mister Spock," I ventured.

"It is," the captain agreed shortly. "But better that he's there, than here." He gestured at all the files and tapes on the desk. Or possibly at the entirety of his quarters. I didn't know. 

"Yes." I cleared my throat and hoped the captain had meant that the way I wanted to take it, that he wanted to spare his first officer the boring demands of paperwork. "This end of mission.... It's more difficult than I thought it would be. Not the procedures," I added quickly. "The ... leaving. Letting it all go."

"Nothing stays the same forever," he said heavily. "Everything changes, and we've just got to accept that." 

Of course he meant his time as captain of the _Enterprise_. Of course he did.

I walked back to my quarters confused and more tired than I'd been in a long time. I couldn't even look at my desk and consider more work. Though Mister Spock might be denied the comfort of sleep, my body cried out for rest. I was going to get a good night's sleep and everything would look better in the morning.

The shower pounded against my skin and hurt my breasts, tender at this time of the month. I turned so the water sluiced down my back and tried to keep my mind a blank. But my thoughts raced anyway. 

Jim Kirk and Spock had a love that would last forever. Didn't they? It was different from any love _I'd_ ever experienced. My most serious relationship had been with Shadala, and how could I compare that romance that couldn't last with the purity of what shimmered between my two commanding officers? 

They couldn't be breaking up. I pumped the soap dispenser furiously. It would make all my memories of them meaningless. Worse than that, my memories would be lies. 

_\-- Jim Kirk smiling and leaning over his first officer on the bridge at the end of that awful mission in the shuttlecraft, the rich affection in his voice as he accused Spock of being a stubborn man;_

_\-- Spock and the captain making a circuit of the upper level of the bridge, their heads close together as they planned the _Enterprise’s_ escape from the Klingons, their steps, their thoughts, their souls in unison;_

_\-- the captain trying to balance two meals on a tray to carry to the first officer's quarters, his forehead creased with worry for the friend who was now stripped of all his Vulcan mental powers;_

_\-- on an alien ship with Spock deep in the pon farr, his trembling and desperate effort to control his need, the hungry looks he cast at Jim, and the captain wrapping his arm around his lover, supporting him, whispering reassurance, leading him to the meagre privacy of a room with a door and thin walls, with all the rest of the landing party on the other side knowing exactly what they were about to do...._

That time on the _Lox'theneth'nar_ and Spock's pon farr was one of the most embarrassing occasions of my life, yet it was one of the most beautiful times too, despite the danger and fear that surrounded it. I'd offered to be Spock's partner in his need, because I wasn't exactly sure of the status of their relationship. I'll never forget the way Jim said, "No, I'll take care of Mister Spock. We've been lovers for months." 

With such pride. Such love. For a while I'd thought Shadala and I had shared those same emotions. We'd failed, but I'd felt so sure that Jim and Spock had what I hadn't been able to keep. Such love _was_ possible. A human could reach out and find wonder and satisfaction in the most unlikely person. A Vulcan could give himself in a union of body and soul. Jim and Spock were living proof that the kind of love I was looking for was out there. 

I looked down at the water draining between my toes and felt too heartsick to move. If their love had died already, then.... I winced as I remembered how Shadala's hand had drawn back, come near, hit my cheek. The sting of the water was the sting of the blow. 

I fell asleep a moment after my head hit the pillow. I dreamed of flower petals scattering in the solar wind. 

************************

I awakened the next morning with a weight in the pit of my stomach, wanting to pull the blanket over my head and not emerge for weeks. Instead I forced myself to sit up and asked: What difference did it make? The same question popped up in my mind a hundred times the next few days, and I had an answer.

No difference. I'd idealized their relationship, tried to make it what it wasn't. What, after all, did I know of their private lives together? There was no reason for me to care as much as my overly-sympathetic nature was telling me I did. If Jim and Spock's love affair were over, then it was over, and what did that have to do with Penda Uhura?

And so I went about my duties with a determinedly cheerful attitude. I forced a smile to my lips and kept it there, and worked like a demon. I completed every single one of my end of mission responsibilities, organized the memorial service, and managed to keep very far away from the captain and first officer. 

Despite my facade, I carried a kernel of discontent with me everywhere, and I hated this feeling that would not go away. It was so stupid. So emotional. Mister Spock would definitely not have approved. I hid it and behaved in the most professional manner I could, following the example of my commanding officers. I am a career Starfleet officer. The kind for whom personal relationships rarely work.

We held the memorial ceremony early evening ship time the day before we were due to wing into orbit over Riddle's. I walked to the gym early with brisk steps so that I could secure a seat in the front. I watched the two hundred and forty-two crew members, almost everyone who was off duty, as they filed in, and tried to imprint every face into my memory. The rest of my friends and colleagues would witness the ceremony from their duty stations, since the memorial was being transmitted throughout the ship.

Most people came in uniform or their best off-duty clothing. They were solemn-faced and quiet. Security came together, at attention, wearing their scarlet dress uniforms, and with the _Enterprise_ flag leading their ranks. They mourned more comrades than any other department. 

The captain stood on the impromptu stage set up near the weight-lifting equipment, flanked by Mister Spock to his right, Scotty and Doctor McCoy to his left. It was the first time I'd seen Jim and Spock together since Spock had left the bridge for the labs five days before. 

I hadn't created a script for the captain, just set up the shell within which he could say or do whatever he wanted to. He kept it very simple.

"We are here to remember our dead." His voice rang out over the crowd. "And to say good-bye to them as we prepare to disembark at the end of our journey. Let us not ever forget them." 

And then he stepped back and on the screen behind him flashed the faces of those who had died, one by one. I'd drawn most of them from the computer record of the day-to-day activities of the ship; with just a few had I been forced to use their official Starfleet I.D. But it didn't matter whether the shots were of someone walking down a hall or laughing in the rec room, these were beings who had once been alive and who were now just dust, people I'd known. I swallowed hard as I gazed upon each face. 

Then the captain stepped forward and pronounced the name of the first person who'd died, and Nurse Bronson stood from where she was seated and said, "Judy was my roommate. She loved flowers and cats and often taped messages to her parents on Alpha Colony III. She loved being on the _Enterprise_ , and I heard her laugh the morning before she died." 

The next name came from the sciences roster. Mister Spock said it, and this time an ensign from the bio lab spoke. "Ivan Karanoff was my friend. He...."

And so it went. I hadn't realized that I would be so moved, but by the tenth name I couldn't control myself any longer, and the tears rolled silently down my cheeks. Audrey, sitting next to me, groped for my hand and squeezed it hard, and I know she was also crying. 

It was hardest on the captain, I think. He stood at attention, his hands clenched into fists by his side, his chin slightly lifted, his face a pale stone. For him, each name was a failure. I have a small idea of his feeling of personal responsibility for each member of his crew, but to have each of the deceased proclaimed one after the other, to be reminded of the unique treasures their lives had been, and his failure to protect them.... It must have been agony. 

Then the captain called out "Commander Gary Mitchell," his voice as strong and clear as when he'd begun the ceremony. He took one step forward, for he was the one who'd asked to speak for the man I'd barely known. 

In a voice that dared anyone to notice a tremor, he said, "I first met Gary Mitchell at the Academy. I requested him for the _Enterprise_ when I was made captain because he was a superlative officer. He'd always had a dream of exploring where no one from the Federation had ever been before. He was a good friend, and I am... sorry... for what happened to him. For what I had to do." 

I tore my gaze from my captain and glanced at Spock. His eyes were riveted on Jim's back. Then I saw Spock lean forward, as if he were prepared to take a step closer. He hesitated. I could actually see him reconsider, straighten, and turn his eyes forward again. 

I wished so much that Spock had taken that one small step. I needed it to fight the persistent voice of sorrow in my heart that said their love had died. But the first officer didn't actually move towards his captain. The hope I had, that I was misinterpreting everything, remained small and alone. 

It took more than an hour for the roll call of names, and it was one of the most draining experiences of my life. Most of the testimonials were short but heart-felt. Twice the person speaking broke down and could not continue. 

I'd thought that the previous days had wrung all the emotion from me, but my heart still had more to give. I sat and ached and wiped my flowing tears away without shame. If the other night I'd said good-bye to the happiness and camaraderie of singing in the rec room, now I said farewell to the courage and dangers that had fueled our mission. 

When the last name had been proclaimed, we stood while the Federation anthem played. Then the captain said, "We will gather again before our voyage ends in just ten days, but for these crewmates the journey has already ended. Let us remember them, and their sacrifice for us, the living." 

"All things change, not always for the better, but change is a constant in this mysterious universe of ours. All things come to an end: our five year mission, the lives of our friends and loved ones, eventually our own lives and our hopes and dreams. For those of us who are temporarily left behind, left alone, acceptance may be difficult, but we continue. It is the greatest honor we can bestow upon the memory of our comrades." 

It was not my captain's most eloquent testimonial, but I don't think he was capable of anything more. He simply stopped speaking, stood there in the middle of the platform, very much alone. He looked at us. Who can say what he was thinking? That at least some of those entrusted to his care were still alive? That he faced an ending to his own hopes and dreams? 

Mister Spock paced to the front of the stage and said, "Attention." We straightened and maintained silence for a long minute. Then the captain strode down the center aisle, his footsteps clicking loudly. Finally he was gone, and our first officer said, "Dismissed." 

That was the end of the memorial ceremony. As I filed out with the rest of my quiet shipmates, my mind kept echoing what I had heard in my almost-dream. 

_Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye._

**********************

I guess I wasn't as clever as I had thought in hiding my turmoil because the next day after alpha shift Hikaru insisted that I beam down with him to Riddle's. I protested and told him the last thing I wanted to do was join a group of enthusiastic, milling junior officers at one of the typical Starfleet watering holes. 

"I know a place that's nice," he said. "Off the beaten track and quiet, where we can talk. Come on, Penda, this is our last chance to get away by ourselves before debriefing, and you need it." 

I wasn't sure I wanted to talk, but Hikaru can be persuasive, and insistent, and it seemed easier to give in than to force him to accept my refusal. So I put on my split-skirted dress, probably for the last time, I thought morosely, and beamed down with my friend to Riddle's Planet. 

_Camparo's_ was a combination restaurant and club in a small city on the least populated island-continent on the planet, and it was everything Hikaru had said it would be. Quiet, elegant, discreet. Very dark, with a heavily carpeted floor and deep red textured walls. I had to watch my step in the dimness as I followed the automated light-guide to the table Hikaru had reserved. High-backed booths circled an elegant wooden dance floor where well-dressed couples held each other and swayed to slow, sensuous music. A sonic curtain separated dining from dancing areas, so as we walked we could hear the music only faintly, with an occasional thump accenting the rhythm. There wasn't a Starfleet face in sight. 

The guide stopped outside a booth on the lower of the two banked levels and blinked as it hovered in the air. I reached to place my thumbprint on the ident-pad on the top, but Hikaru was there first. "Let me," he said. He seemed to really want to, so I let him. 

We ordered drinks from the automated waiter who came to hover beside our little island of privacy, and we talked. I find it very easy to talk with Hikaru now, though we weren't such special friends in the beginning. When I returned from that other universe, I even found myself avoiding him. That Lieutenant Sulu with the scar had frightened me. 

After our drinks arrived, and Hikaru told me how he'd visited _Camparo's_ years before with Mister Scott, and we discussed how moving the memorial service had been, Hikaru sat forward and planted his elbows on the table. "Now tell me. What's been bothering you so much lately? And don't tell me end of mission. I know better."

Like I had thought before, my brothers and my sisters. I never had been able to keep a secret from my family. 

I sighed, and sat back against the cushion. "It's the captain. And Mister Spock. I don't think they're together anymore, and I'm...." I shrugged. "I guess I'm upset. It's stupid, really."

"Don't tell me you actually listened to Colleen! Penda, you know better than that. She's a vicious little busybody who lusts after the captain and doesn't have much sense. There wasn't any truth in what she was saying."

"But I think there was," I said earnestly, as if I actually wanted to convince him. "I've been looking, and ...."

So I told him about the sculpture being gone, and the tape to New Mars, and then I stopped, embarrassed. "I sound like a child. This is ridiculous."

He captured my hands in his as I looked down at the table. "No, it's not, because it's bothering you. I'm not used to Penda looking sad and not singing on the bridge. How am I going to manage these last few days without you humming all the time?"

I looked up at him through watery eyes. "I don't hum all the time."

He nodded solemnly. "Most of the time. Some of the time. When you're happy and things are going well. I'd like to hear you when we make orbit over Earth, Penda."

I blinked, and his face came into focus, and our gazes held for a long moment. He was looking at me in that same intense way again, the way he'd looked at me in the rec room. My stomach fluttered. 

And then he said, too quickly, "So tell me the rest. I don't think that just because Jim has packed early and Mister Spock has recommended Irina for a posting that that's any reason to think they're not together anymore."

I bit my lip and felt even more foolish. When Hikaru put it like that, my guessing sounded so adolescent. "They're not going to live together on Earth," I managed. 

He cocked his head to the side, and I became intensely aware that his hands still held mine. "That's a problem, I'll admit. But they know as well as we do that their relationship is... unconventional."

"They're not ashamed of it."

"No, but they don't flaunt it either, do they?"

"Homosexuality is not illegal on Earth," I said half-indignantly, and took the opportunity to pull my hands from his warm touch. I folded them in my lap where they'd be safe. 

"No," he said slowly, "it's not on this planet either, but do you see any male couples out on the dance floor right now? I don't imagine Starfleet will be thrilled when they find out. Ours is not the most liberal organization in the galaxy. But.... look at it from Jim's point of view, and Spock's. What would you do if you were the one coming into port, senior officers of the ship, about to become the focus of the biggest public relations campaign Starfleet has ever devised?"

I actually considered the question, tried to put myself in their shoes. "I guess I'd... wait. Get things settled, re-establish my contacts with Starfleet Command, and then.... rearrange things." 

"Right," said Hikaru, and I could see that he was proud of himself because he thought he'd just solved a problem and cheered me up. "That's what Jim and Spock are doing. They'll be together, don't worry. There's nothing for you to be concerned about." 

I smiled at him, not because he'd changed my mind about anything but because he was being so typically himself. Optimistic, cheerful, efficiently diving to the heart of a problem. 

So I didn't mention the way the captain had been pushing Spock so hard lately, the long hours the first officer had been needlessly putting into readying the labs for inspection, or the captain's comments. What exactly had he meant by _Better that he's there, than here?_ and _Nothing stays the same forever?_ Hikaru might think everything was all right, but he hadn't heard the weight of sadness in Jim's voice when he'd said those words. 

I didn't realize I was silent until Hikaru patted my hand; I was tracing the grain of the wooden table. "You're still worried, aren't you?"

"Mother Hen syndrome," I said lightly. "I'll get over it." I definitely didn't want to talk about this anymore, so I cast about for a diversion. "How about dancing?" 

I led him through the slight distortion of the sonic curtain. There were only five other couples there. The music was slow, soft, and invited the press of bodies together. We stopped near the center of the floor and faced each other, our hands still joined. I looked at him, and he looked at me.... There was a flashing moment of uncertainty, almost of panic, as I wildly wondered whether I dared to step into his arms and dance. 

But I'd danced with Hikaru on many other planets, many times. Why shouldn't I now? Slowly, as if it were an act of great courage, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He encircled my waist, and we were moving together. 

Hikaru dances the way he fences, with grace and power. He took long, sweeping steps that kept time to the sensuous notes, and I followed him. 

Slowly my uneasiness faded, I became comfortable, and I was able to expand my perceptions beyond the touch of his body upon mine, the sound of his breath in my ear. The music changed to a slower, quieter tune, and our sweeping steps became small. Our bodies swayed to the rhythm. 

And then, from over Hikaru's shoulder, I saw the profiles of two men sitting in a booth across the room. One wore a heavy black sweater shot with silver thread. The other had on a green silk shirt that I remembered from many other shore leaves. 

My heart thumped. No more than eight meters from where we danced were Spock and Jim. 

I drew a quick breath that Hikaru heard. "What's the matter?" he asked, kindly. 

I shook my head. I was afraid to speak, as if any words of mine would cause this apparition to fade away. 

Together. They were together! But then my elation faded. They were involved in an intent conversation. Perhaps, an argument. Jim was leaning forward on his elbows, his hands flashing as he made some point, Spock sat straight against the cushioned seatback, unmoving. Not reacting at all. 

Oh, dear God, Mistress of the Universe. Why had we picked this particular restaurant of all the establishments on the entire damn planet? I didn't want to witness this, what might be a final confrontation and farewell, and yet I could not tear my eyes away. Spock said something that stopped the captain's torrent of words. Jim sat back, increasing the distance between them.

Hikaru tried to lead us into a turn, in time with the music, but I planted my feet and refused to be moved beyond the little circle of space that afforded the best view.

"What?" he asked again. 

"Just a minute," I said. My pounding heart was robbing me of breath. "Let's just stay right here for a minute."

Thirty seconds passed and neither of my commanding officers spoke. I closed my eyes and swayed against Hikaru.

When I looked again, Jim was on his feet by the side of the table. He extended his arm, and his fingers beckoned for Spock to take his hand. 

Spock looked up at the captain, his expression measuring, deciding, as only a logical Vulcan can measure and decide in the midst of emotion. I held my breath. 

Even from the distance between us I could see Jim flex his fingers, extend them again. _Take my hand._

And Spock did. 

He stood. Fingers entwined, they moved onto the dance floor and stopped just a short distance from their table. They faced each other for a moment that seemed to last a very long time. The restaurant might have been dimly lit, but the look my captain gave his first officer was... incandescent. And Spock.... I'm sure I saw the smile glowing in Spock's eyes. 

Then Spock took a step closer. I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. Surely they weren't going to.... Spock's long fingers reached up and then slowly, lovingly settled upon the curve of his captain's shoulders. I gulped and remembered the way his fingers had caressed the strings of his lyre. It was almost more than I could bear to see, there was so much of the inner man revealed in this simple holding. 

But his elbows were still tightly tucked against the front of his body. This was still Spock. This was the way a Vulcan, restrained in movement as well as in feelings, would prepare to engage in a public exhibition of emotion. Still two hands-widths away from his partner, Spock held his captain and waited. 

For a timeless moment, Jim looked at Spock, such a look of pride upon his face, of gratitude for this gift that Spock was giving. Then he moved half a step closer. He took his first officer into a public embrace, his arms settling around the spare figure of his Vulcan, his fingers spreading against his back to possessively press them together. 

And as practiced as any couple who had been together for years, they danced. 

Their gazes were locked, Jim's face tilted slightly up, Spock's slightly down, as if they were frozen in the moment before they kissed. I know they didn't see me and Hikaru, because they had eyes only for each other. 

Jim and Spock were not saying good-bye to each other. Love that will last forever has no good-bye's.

Finally I looked away, for I'd seen everything that I could ever hope to see. I turned my head and rested it on Hikaru's shoulder. I felt his surprise, and welcomed his touch when he gently pulled me closer. But I was thinking of the love I'd had, the love that hadn't been strong enough to last.

Shadala had never looked at me the way Jim and Spock were looking at each other, and I had never looked at Shadala like that. 

In all the months we'd been together, we had never danced. I'd never offered him all that I was. 

Somewhere in this mysterious universe of ours, there is someone for me. I'll hold out my hand for him and he'll take it, and his soul will be my soul, my heart will be his heart. We'll dance the dance of life, no matter where the solar winds take us. We'll disagree, probably fight, struggle to merge our careers and our ambitions. But our love will always bind us together. 

It's my dream. I know it's possible because I've seen it. 

I side-stepped in time to the music and turned Hikaru around. "Look," I whispered. "Look who's dancing." 

He looked and he chuckled. "You see," my friend told me, "I told you so. Everything's all right." 

He led me through a celebratory dip and swirl, despite the softness of the music, and my heart followed every step my body took. We danced, our steps in effortless unison, and I wondered whether the love that would shape my future was closer than I'd ever realized. 

One circuit of the floor brought us back to where we'd begun. Jim and Spock were even closer now, their bodies pressed fully against each other, the sides of their faces touching. 

My eyes flooded with tears and I made no effort to stop them. They looked... beautiful together. Spock's eyes were closed, but his arms had opened to hold his captain about the waist as possessively as he was being held. I have never seen him look so peaceful. The lines that stress and end of mission had etched into his face were gone. He looked younger. Content. All my wishes for his happiness were unnecessary; he'd found what he was looking for.

And Jim? As I watched, the captain's arms tightened around Spock's back. The lighting was dim, they were meters away from where Hikaru and I swayed, but I could still see. Jim pressed a kiss upon the side of his first officer's neck, just below his ear. Spock pulled back and said something, mock-admonishing, and the captain's eyes twinkled.

And then he snuggled back into his Vulcan's embrace and looked over his shoulder. Straight into my inquisitive gaze.

Many people would say I am a brave woman. Certainly I've managed to face the horrors the universe has flung at me. But whatever courage I might possess deserted me in that moment when Jim saw me. My throat went dry and a chill traveled the length of my spine. I wished myself on the other side of the galaxy.

And then he smiled at me. At me. One of those patented, guaranteed-to-melt-your-heart smiles that only Jim Kirk could ever produce, and which I hadn't seen in so long.

I breathed in shakily and smiled back at him. 

He winked. 

Then, still smiling, he pressed his face against Spock's neck and closed his eyes. He was exactly where he wanted to be. 

And they danced. 

***********************

That's the memory of my commanding officers that I'll take with me on the last day of our voyage. 

I don't know whether I misinterpreted all the things I'd seen, or whether there really had been something straining the relationship between them. Maybe they were fighting over after-mission assignments, like Brian and Irina, or maybe I'd just imagined tension that wasn't really there.

Was Jim asking Spock simply to dance with him? Or had I witnessed a decision of much greater importance that will affect their lives for a long time? I don't know. 

They left soon after that dance, and I continued a most enjoyable evening with Hikaru. When I got back to the ship, I checked the shore leave roster. Well, it's my right, I am head of communications, even in the heart of gamma shift. 

Both the captain and Mister Spock were signed off ship for the next thirty-six hours. They could be contacted, in emergency, at Riddle's Interstellar Deluxe, a luxury hotel in the heart of the largest city on the planet. The mystery of the driving effort to get the ship in shape for inspection before absolutely necessary was solved. They'd wanted some quiet time before the rigors of end of mission, to talk, to be alone together, and they'd both been willing to pay the price for that time. 

And now the _Enterprise_ travels towards Earth. Just four more days and we'll be there. 

I intend to replenish my wardrobe as soon as possible. I'm looking forward to spending time with my sisters. And there will be time to spend with my friends from the _Enterprise_ during debriefing too.

And after that? Anything is possible. 

Even the fulfillment of my dreams. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> "Journey’s End" was first published in T’hy’la 17. Many thanks to Kathleen Resch for editing help.


End file.
